


I Lke Deer, So I Thought You Might Too

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Birthday Presents, Brief Non-Con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Past Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, for like a sec, kira turns 17, malia hates shopping, malia likes deer, tactile malia tate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 17:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kira is turning 17 and Malia doesn't know what to get her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Lke Deer, So I Thought You Might Too

**Author's Note:**

> This was for my friend [Eli's](http://mercuryraindrops.tumblr.com/) 17th birthday. Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/127771196950/i-like-deer-so-i-thought-you-might-too). Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/)!

Malia doesn’t understand birthdays. What’s so special about the day you were born on? Why do humans celebrate becoming one year closer to their death? In the forest, old age means inevitable demise; it means being too weak to hunt, too decrepit to fight off rivals, too feeble attract a mate. Not that she’s calling Kira old. Although, for a coyote, 17 years is a long time. But humans seem to age much slower, Malia’s noticed. So yeah, Malia doesn’t really care for birthdays, but for Kira, she’ll make an exception.

Kira was one of the first people to truly accept Malia for what and who she was. While Stiles and Scott were busy trying to mold her to fit into society, while Lydia dolled her up to look normal, while Derek scrutinized her warily the same way he did Peter, Kira was the most ready to laugh off her social gaffes and embrace the inherently coyote part of Malia’s brain. When Stiles sternly told her that scentmarking in public was a no-no, Malia didn’t understand how he could call them a pack if she couldn’t even touch them and mix their scents. On the other hand, Kira was more than ready to drown in an armful of werecoyote as Malia nosed along her neck and playfully brushed their shoulders together.

Kira was the one who had held Malia together after she and Stiles finally called it quits. She was the one who had consoled Malia when she struggled with the onslaught of emotions her coyote past had never prepared her for.

_“It hurts,” Malia whispered through her tears, tucking her head under Kira’s chin._

_“I know,” Kira soothed, hugging her tightly and combing slender fingers through Malia’s hair. “I know it does.” She and Scott had decided to end things once they realized Scott was dead set on going up north to UC Davis for vet school while Kira was hesitant to stray far from home. They amicably split and were still close._

_“But,” sniffled Malia, clutching her chest, “it hurts here. There’s no injury. Why is there pain?”_

_Kira covered Malia’s hand with her own, right atop her heart. “It’s a different kind of hurt,” she said softly. “You can’t see anything wrong because you’re aching on the inside. Not physically, but in your heart and soul and mind. Stiles was your first everything. It’ll be hard, but you’ll get over it. You’ll move on, you’ll survive, and it’ll fade.”_

_“Promise?” Malia’s eyes were large and pleading._

_“Pinky promise,” Kira replied, hooking their fingers together loosely. Malia sighed in contentment._

Unfortunately for Malia, giving a shit about Kira being born 17 years ago means getting her something—according to Stiles—and that means asking Lydia for help—what else is new? At least this will be more fun than math. Though, after the fifth consecutive store Lydia has dragged her through, Malia is rethinking even that.

“What about this?” Lydia muses, more thinking aloud than actually asking Malia, who’d taken to occasional grunts in lieu of actually giving her opinion after the first ten times Lydia had asked. In the first shop.

“You’re right,” nods Lydia sagely, putting the sundress back on the rack, “too floral. We need to put some diversity in your girlfriend’s closet. This might not be the right place.”

From her spot spread-eagle on the ground, one arm thrown over her eyes, Malia groans. She’s tired, hungry, and is severely regretting her instinctive decision to turn to Lydia when she’s floundering in her new human world. When another store associate cautiously creeps toward Malia, probably to ask her again to get off the pristine white floor, she bares her teeth and growls a bit until the nervous-looking guy meeps and retreats.

A guy an aisle over snickers, but shuts up quickly once Malia whips her head around to glare at him.

“Hey,” Lydia chastises disapprovingly, “put the claws away. We’ll eat as soon as we find something nice. I don’t think this is gonna cut it, though. Do you know if Kira has any Prada handbags?”

“I don’t know,” Malia sighs, laying back down. The cool tile feels good on her skin, warm despite the air conditioning. The summer has been brutally hot, and Malia longingly daydreams of fresh ocean breezes or lazing in the forest shade.

The guy from before rounds the dress rack to browse only a few feet away. Malia frowns suspiciously at him, clambering to her feet. She doesn’t like the smarmy smile on his ugly mug or the bad feeling in her gut.

“Wait,” Lydia exclaims, “what about—” She’s interrupted by an enraged snarl and whirls around to find Malia shoving the guy up against the flimsy hanger rack, which goes crashing down and takes the two of them with it. The werecoyote’s eyes are electric blue with fury and Lydia is pretty sure those are claws wrapped around his neck.

“Malia!” she hisses, wrenching her off and hurriedly shoving her toward the exit. Mall cops and workers are rushing towards them while bystanders stop and stare.

“He touched me,” growls Malia through a mouthful of fangs, though her claws are thankfully gone. She clenches her fists. “In a place you told me people aren’t allowed to touch.”

Lydia’s eyes widen in understanding and she shoots a disgusted look back at the guy, who’s slowly getting up with help from the store manager. “Don’t fucking come near us ever again,” she spits at him before flouncing away, Malia clutching her arm.

Malia is permanently banned from that store, but Lydia assures her she’s not missing out on much. Malia is less concerned about that than she is about still not having anything to give Kira, who’s birthday is rapidly approaching.

* * *

“I like driving. Maybe we could get Kira a car.”

“Do  _you_  have $40,000 just laying around somewhere?”

“I’m sure Lydia does.”

“But that’s not the point,” Scott argues, eyes glued to the TV screen as he and Liam blow up things on the screen with their controllers. Malia thinks the name of the game was some sort of fish. “It should be meaningful, from  _you_ , not just using someone else’s money to buy something expensive. It’s the thought that counts.”

“Except when it’s my birthday,” Liam chimes in, tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth in concentration, “remember that I don’t care about that sappy shit and please do get me a car.”

Malia scowls. “I’m not getting you a car. You’re not Kira.”

Scott slams his finger down on the pause button, despite Liam’s bitching, and turns to stare at her. His crooked jaw is hanging open as he sputters, “Wait, do you  _like_  like her?”

Immediately, Malia curls in on herself, eyes blinking warily. She’s never really thought about it, but now she realizes she’s courting her alpha’s ex. She’s not about to back down, but she braces herself for a fight if it comes to it.

Recognizing her circumspect posture, Scott scooches back with his hands up in surrender. “Hey, Malia, chill. I’m not mad or anything. That’s great news! Kira deserves someone who cares about her and is gonna stick around to be there for her.”

He’s so earnest and his face so open, even if there’s a shadow of wistfulness, that Malia relaxes and lowers her proverbial hackles. “I don’t even know if she likes girls,” she admits ruefully, voicing a fear that’s been niggling at the back of her mind for some time now. She doesn’t want to state her intent only to be shot down.

“Oh, she does,” Scott says easily, unpausing the game and proceeding to shoot Liam’s character in the head.

“Hey!”

“She told me once we got together that she was bi,” Scott continues. “She and Stiles really bonded over that. I think he might’ve been the reason she’s got this little purple, blue, and pink flag on her backpack.”

Something hopeful blooms in Malia’s chest at that. It scares the hell out of her, but it gives her this dizzying headrush as well. It feels like standing on the edge of precipice, waiting to fall. The question is whether Kira will catch her or not.

* * *

Kira’s birthday is tomorrow and Malia still has nothing. Liam and Mason both suggest video games and going to a gay club respectively, Scott wonders if a keychain to wrap around the hilt of her katana would be a distraction in a fight, Stiles offers to steal something from the evidence locker at the sheriff’s station, Lydia says, “Anything but Stiles’ idea of going naked wrapped in a red bow,” and Derek says he might have a spare leather jacket lying around somewhere.

In short, Malia has zip, nada, and zilch. So much for wooing a gorgeous girl, she grumps to herself. Being human is hard.

* * *

On the big day, Malia is sweating buckets. She’s antsy and just a tad irritable because of it. In her defense, she does apologize to Hayden for snapping at her. At Stiles’ insistence. And Hayden doesn’t even deign it with a response, just flounces away in that  _I’m too good for anyone else_  way that somehow Liam finds attractive.

Clutching the small striped box, complete with a neat ribbon that Lydia tied into a perfect bow for her, Malia deposits it at the designated gift table and tries to relax. Derek’s loft is strung up with sparkling fairy lights and there are no parents, so Stiles brought booze for the humans and Derek brought wolfsbane-spiked alcohol for the weres. It’s a potluck, so the long food table is laden with steaming pizza, Melissa’s famous enchiladas, myriad sushi, and some Polish cabbage monstrosity that Malia makes a mental note to avoid at all costs. She sniffs warily at the sashimi and decides to try some of that for Kira’s sake, though.

Grabbing a cup of beer, Malia heads over to the couch and plops down.

“You found something,” Lydia observes from where she’s come to stand beside Malia. She’s sipping her own drink and watching Kira laugh with Scott and Mason.

Malia nods, chewing her bottom lip. “Derek helped me, but I finally thought of something.”

“I’m proud of you,” Lydia says.

Malia snorts. “For being able to come up with an idea on my own?”

“For learning to be your own person,” replies Lydia evenly. Malia gulps. “I know the transition hasn’t been easy for you after years of being a coyote, but you’re doing well. We’re all proud, you know.”

On cue, Scott looks over his shoulder to give a dorky thumbs up at them. Kira blinks in surprise and follows his gaze.

Her eyes light up when she sees them, and Malia curses under her breath. “She’s coming over here. What do I do?”

“You’ll be fine,” Lydia claps her on the shoulder as she moves toward Kira. “Just don’t embarrass yourself.”

“Not helpful,” mutters Malia as Lydia meets Kira halfway for a hug before walking towards Scott. The two of them share knowing looks and turn to watch Malia and Kira.

“Happy birthday,” Malia beams genuinely as Kira sits next to her.

“Thank you,” grins Kira, leaning forward for a hug.

Malia inhales as subtly as she can, savoring the sweet scent of electricity and sugar. She knows Kira likes to wrap her arms around Malia’s shoulders, so Malia pulls Kira’s waist close. She rests her cheek on Kira’s head and crinkles her nose when Kira’s hair tickles it. It’s comforting and familiar and eases Malia’s nerves; if nothing else, at least she gets to have this moment: her best friend and crush holding her like nothing else matters.

It’s more hopeful than the first buds of spring during the winter, more satisfying than dozing in the sun with a full stomach, sweeter than the first dewdrops clinging to the grass in the morning. Malia finds something warm like moonshine settle in her chest and she clings to it. She feels the hurt in her chest fade just a little.

* * *

A couple hours later, the party is wrapping up and Malia is trying to find a place to stealthily throw away the cabbage Derek had dumped onto her plate while Stiles wasn’t looking. She absentmindedly licks her lips as she searches for a trash back that isn’t full to the brim and might spill over if she tries to balance her plate on it. Turns out she was the only sashimi fan aside from Kira, so they had a blast eating their way through a veritable mountain of raw fish.

“Hey.”

Malia spins around, eyes ‘deer caught in a headlight’ wide, and hastily tries to not look like someone who was contemplating shoving a pile of stinky cabbage down the bathroom sink. “Uh, hi.”

“I can grab a new trash bag if you want,” Kira says, amused, as she eyes Malia’s dirty paper plate. “C’mon.”

Malia tries not to make it obvious how pleased she is when Kira grabs her hand to lead her away, but she doesn’t think she does a very good job based on the small quirk of Kira’s lips. Relishing the soft press of Kira’s fingers between her own, Malia tightens her grip.

“Thank you,” Kira says as they walk side by side through the hallway, “for all this. I had a great time.”

“Stiles and Lydia put most of it together,” confesses Malia. “You should thank them.”

“Still,” shrugs Kira.

Malia’s eyes stray to their linked hands, specifically Kira’s wrist, and she stops walking in surprise. “You’re wearing it.”

Kira flushes bright red and shyly glances at her feet, hair falling in her eyes before she pushes it behind her ear with her free hand. “Yeah, uh, it’s nice. Thanks. I really like it.”

“It looks good on you,” Malia replies earnestly, relief flooding through her at Kira’s approval of her gift. “I like deer, so I thought you might too.” She beams at the little band of tanned deer hide circling Kira’s wrist. It’s smooth and supple from the painstaking hours Malia put into scraping it with a knife, salting and soaking it, and just generally praying that it came out alright. Not to mention the time it took to actually hunt the deer. Luckily, her cousin was a huge ass black wolf and it turns out even a full grown doe doesn’t stand a chance to a coyote and a wolf. On the bright side, Malia has enough deer jerky to last her a couple weeks.

Kira glances up through her lashes to gaze at Malia, who’s gravitated closer without even realizing it. Malia brushes a gentle thumb over the back of Kira’s hand, and Kira’s breath catches as she sees Malia’s eyes flick towards her lips.

“I really like you!” Kira blurts out before clapping her hands over her mouth and squeaking with embarrassment.

“You do?” Malia’s asks, dazed and wonderstruck. But she’s already heard Kira’s steady heartbeat, if a little fast with nerves. She steps closer, tipping her head down slightly. Kira’s sweet scent tickles her nose, and the air between them is charged like foxfire.

“Can I kiss you?” breathes Kira, inching closer and guiding Malia’s hand to her waist.

Malia answers by surging forward to seal their lips together and dropping her nasty smelling, cabbage-filled plate in favor of getting her hands under Kira’s thighs to hoist her up and press her against the wall. Kira grunts in surprise, giggling and shrieking with delight as she peppers soft kisses against Malia’s cheeks. She rubs their noses together, eyes crinkled as she smiles so hard her vision blurs.

Malia huffs in fond amusement, leaning up to search for Kira’s lips once more. The kissing turns slow and sensual, still heated but less frantic. To Malia, it feels like electricity crackles everywhere they touch; to Kira, it feels like a wolf is curled around her ribs and howling in her chest.

When they finally break apart, Kira sliding down the wall to gaze up at Malia through blown pupils as she gnaws on her kiss-swollen bottom lip, they’re both breathless. Malia can’t help one last playful nip at the underside of Kira’s jaw.

“I really like you too,” Malia mumbles against the skin of Kira’s neck, enjoying the sweet scent of Kira’s arousal and happiness.

“This is way better than that baggie of weed Stiles got me from the evidence locker,” Kira sighed, tangling a hand in Malia’s short hair. “Way, way better.”

* * *

An hour later, Mr. Yukimura is less than pleased to find Kira and Malia making out shirtless in Kira’s room.

“What happened to your werecoyote hearing?” Kira hisses, face flaming in embarrassment as she yanks her dress back on and shoves Malia’s shirt towards her.

“It kind of goes away when your tongue is halfway down my throat,” retorts Malia as she shrugs on her tee. “It’s not my fault you’re kind of a great kisser!”

“You think I’m a great kisser?” Kira’s face is all wide-eyed surprise and pleased innocence.

“Yes I do,” grumbles Malia crossly. “Now come walk me out and kiss me on the cheek goodnight. That’s what they do in the movies, right?”

Kira’s grin is brighter than a megawatt lightbulb. 

So Malia still doesn’t really understand birthdays. But she figures if it got her and Kira together, then they can’t be all that bad.


End file.
